My Heart's Desire
by Laughy-Taffy the Grape
Summary: "If life gets too hard to stand, kneel." The stories of three people that followed this advice.
1. Armor

**There are spoilers in this fic up to Series 4. Also, if you hadn't already figured that out from the summary, there are some pretty strong religious themes. If you don't like that sort of stuff, this story is _not_ for you. Thanks to Kitty O for beta-ing for me:D**

**I don't own Merlin, or the song this fic was based on, 'Did You Think To Pray?"**

**Enjoy!**

The door to Merlin's room was thrown open violently, and said warlock came in, his face disturbed and his breathing heavy. Sighing despondently, he threw himself on his bed and put his face in his hands.

How could he have been so _stupid?_

Magic was banned in Camelot. He knew this. He knew he would be killed if caught. And yet, he'd gone and enchanted that smoke anyway.

And now Gaius was paying for his mistake.

He reviewed his options. The most obvious solution was to break his guardian out. That of course would lead to running and hiding, possibly for the rest of their lives. He wasn't sure Gaius could take something like that. So, maybe.

He could try and expose Aredian as the fraud he was.

Yeah. Right. Like anyone would believe him. That would just show that Merlin had actually considered the amulet might have been Gaius's. And even if Merlin could find _proof _Aredian was a fraud, chances are he would twist that, too.

Maybe he could convince Uther that Gaius had been lying to protect him. Though, knowing Aredian, that would probably end up with _both _of them in prison.

Despair filled his heart. Even the _dragon _didn't know what to do! How was he supposed to help? Anything he did could only make it worse.

But he couldn't lose Gaius. Especially when he was to blame.

The young warlock stood and stumped dejectedly out of his room, trying desperately to come up with something. He didn't really notice where he was going, and likewise didn't notice (or perhaps just ignored) the looks people were giving him. Everyone had heard of Gaius's arrest and felt sorry for his tormented ward. Whether any of them actually believed the accusations was a topic for another day.

Oblivious to their stares, Merlin continued walking blindly through the castle, teetering between thinking frantically and despairing.

Then, he stopped suddenly, realizing where he had walked to. He was standing in the doorway of the chapel.

Merlin didn't know the God of the New Religion. He'd occasionally go into the chapel for the services, and knew Arthur believed that creed, but he'd never really thought much about it. He told himself it was because he already had a religion, but deep down he realized it was probably because he didn't feel comfortable following a God that denounced the magic he couldn't help.

But what was he to do? The gods of the Old Religion weren't known for their mercy - or their hearing.

Carefully, he stepped forward, towards the altar. Thankfully, there was no one around, because he wasn't entirely sure what to do. Did he kneel? He hoped so, as he went to his knees. Immediately, he hit upon another dilemma: did he speak out loud or just think?

"Let's be safe," he muttered. "I don't really know anything about you, so . . . "

He gulped, staring at the body-bearing cross in front of him. He couldn't think of anything to say to that sad face.

"Erm," he said, feeling a little foolish talking to a statue. "Hello, I'm Merlin . . . I, uh, I know you probably think I'm being whiny or something, coming to you about something like this when you, you died like, well, _that_. But the truth is, I don't know what else to do. I'm at the end of my rope here. I just don't know if you help people like me, but I've heard you're a merciful God."

He fell silent for a moment, trying to come up with a rational argument, then wondered if that might make Him angry. He looked at the floor, feeling like he might cry.

"What I mean is, could you just give me some sort of hint of what I could do? I need something. I need _anything_. Please."

Merlin risked looking up. Was it just his imagination, or was the face looking less sad and more understanding? For some reason, this thought, imagined or not, was comforting. He hesitated, wondering how to close the supplication. In the end he simply whispered, "Thank you for listening, if nothing else. Amen."

Slowly he stood, feeling like he'd run a mile. Whether it was because of his prayer or the moment of rest, he felt calm and clear-headed. Giving the statue a small bow, he turned away and exited the small chapel. He could see Gwen at the end of the corridor, and as an idea started to form in his head, he thought that maybe, just maybe, everything would be all right.

"_**Ere you left your room this morning, / Did you think to pray? / In the name of Christ, our Savior, / Did you sue for loving favor / As a shield today?"**_ _**-Mary A. Pepper Kidder**_

**Thanks for reading, and please leave a review, I'd like to know what you think!**


	2. Anger

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and alerted:)**

**There are spoilers in this fic up to Series 4. Also, if you hadn't already figured that out from the summary, there are some pretty strong religious themes. If you don't like that sort of stuff, this story is not for you. Thanks to Kitty O for beta-ing for me:D**

**I don't own Merlin, or the song this fic was based on, 'Did You Think To Pray?"**

Gwen was exhausted after crying, so Merlin ushered her into his room and left her there to rest. But Gwen felt certain that, no matter how tired she was, she wouldn't sleep for a long time. She realized that the sight of her father's body lying motionless on a cart would probably be enough to fill her head for many nights to come.

But it wasn't just that. Dark thoughts swam through her mind, also impeding sleep. If she had been almost anyone else, this might not have stopped her, but she was Gwen; unkindness was practically unknown with her.

Whenever she failed to repress the memory of her father, other memories would rise to the surface, memories of speeches and executions, of strange laws and cold looks, all given by one man.

Uther.

Oh, how she hated him. Red seemed to cover her vision as she thought of him, and she wanted to leap to her feet, find him, and run him through with his own sword. She wanted him to make him feel the pain she was feeling. She wanted to make him pay.

How could he have done this? Her father had been innocent; she knew this, and she felt sure Uther did too. Hateful man! Wicked old tyrant! Heartless fool! Perhaps she should give him a taste of his own medicine!

The next thing Gwen knew she was on her feet and reaching for the door latch. Her hand stopped dead inches from it as she realized was she was doing.

_Is this really a good idea?_ one part of her questioned. _Come on, Gwen, this isn't you! Guinevere, kind blacksmith's daughter and lady's maid, does not seek revenge! Don't let the anger take control of you!_

_He deserves it!_ she thought angrily. _He's killed so many people! How many innocents have died to appease him? I can put a stop to that!_

_No you can't, Gwen. You're one girl. He's a trained warrior surrounded by protectors. How will you do it?_

A sudden vision of how she might do it came to her mind, and Gwen stumbled back in shock at the power of it. She could see herself, hands bloodstained and eyes mad, reveling in her revenge.

And her father, sadly leading Uther's drained spirit away.

Tears poured down Gwen's face as she realized what was happening. She was letting anger take hold of her, letting it shape her words and actions. She must stop it.

But how? Still it coursed through her veins, making her tremble with the effort of sitting still. She could still remember her father's corpse. Just realizing she was angry was not going to make the anger go away.

Trembling, she lay down on the bed and curled into a ball. Suddenly afraid to move lest she do someone harm, afraid to open her mouth - even to call for help - lest hateful words escape, Gwen squeezed her eyes shut and prayed frantically for release._ '-_

It's a wonder no one entered the room to try and comfort her quiet sobs, or maybe they wanted to give her some time alone. She was grateful for this solitude in those terrifying moments. One might have thought she was having a fit as her hands clasped her hair and her whole body tensed. They might have rushed to her side and shaken her in fear, only to unleash the beast that coiled around Gwen's heart.

Yes, she was grateful to be left alone.

A calm overcame Gwen as she lay there, and she relaxed. Breathing deeply, she stretched out her aching muscles, going slowly just in case it triggered another attack. Thinking of what her feelings had been just a few minutes before, Gwen shivered, then sent up a little prayer of thanks for her deliverance. She was still a little bit angry, and a lot sad, but no longer did that weird madness grip her. She was Gwen again. The urge to kill had passed, leaving her feeling little more than a strange pity for the king.

She wasn't sure if this was exactly forgiveness, a realization that she wasn't going to attempt an assassination of her opponent, _but_, she thought as her eyes slipped closed in a relatively peaceful sleep, _it's a start._

**"_When your heart was filled with anger, / Did you think to pray? / Did you plead for grace, my brother, / That you might forgive another / Who had crossed your way?"_ -Mary A. Pepper Kidder**

**unsigned reviewer: I'm very glad you liked it, and I guess I just answered your question!**

**Tell me what you thought!**


	3. Anguish

**Last chapter;) I'm starting to notice that they get progressively shorter . . . hmm.**

**There are spoilers in this fic up to Series 3 (sorry, I said 4, I was incorrect). Also, if you hadn't already figured that out from the summary, there are some pretty strong religious themes in this story. If you don't like that sort of stuff, this story is _not_ for you. **Thanks to Kitty O for beta-ing for me:D****

******I don't own Merlin, or the song this fic was based on, 'Did You Think To Pray?"******

****Arthur's father had once told him that he would need a guardian angel in his road to being king. Though he hadn't thought about it a lot at the time, Arthur had by now figured that his father was probably right. How many times had he almost been killed, only to miraculously escape? He had lost count.

Arthur only wished his father had had such a guardian to save him from Morgana's hate. Those days the king had spent in the dungeons must have been among the worst in his life, watching his beloved wa-_daughter_ flaunt her new-found allegiances in his face, hunt down his son, and torture his people.

Speaking of which . . . Arthur's eyes swept around the courtyard in front of him. He was sitting on the steps, taking a break from helping the cleanup, and trying to think of other ways to help. Self-loathing filled him as he saw a few more bodies being carted away to the pyres. Some prince he was, when he couldn't even tell his own frie-_sister_ was becoming evil, when he could barely reclaim the kingdom from her fingers. How had he not noticed the glint in her eye, the self-righteous smirk on her lips?

He sighed. He supposed that self-recrimination did no good. But what was he supposed to do? His people were suffering, looking to him for the comfort he hadn't found himself. The sight of his childhood friend sitting straight-backed and cold on the throne had torn a hole in his chest. If Merlin hadn't said what he had in the cave, Arthur might have taken even longer to rally and fight back. As it was, he still tried to ignore the pain of her betrayal.

It wasn't working.

He shivered slightly. _Don't be such a weakling! _he told himself, annoyed. _You're Arthur, you can pull through this. You don't need outside help, you've gone through worse._

Another voice, sounding something like Merlin, interrupted. That _is your pride talking, Arthur. _The voice was disappointed.

Who could he turn to in this moment of anguish? Merlin came to mind, but somehow this grief seemed too private, even to share with his ser-_friend_. And Merlin had his own troubles, anyway. Arthur could not, in all decency, add to them.

Guardian angel, his father had said. And who would have sent Arthur an angel? The answer was simple, even if he didn't understand why.

Casting his eyes towards the heavens, Arthur muttered, "I could really use that guardian angel right about now."

People rushed up and down the busy staircase, talking, laughing, carrying, silent. The re-building efforts continued. Arthur sighed, thinking that he would have to wait for another day for closure.

A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and a moment later Merlin settled down next to him on the step. The servant smiled at him before turning his attention outward.

Arthur almost laughed as a strange thought occurred to him, and, as he looked down and caught sight of his scuffed boots, he couldn't help thinking that God had a wicked sense of humor.

"_**When sore trials come upon you, / Did you think to pray?/ When your heart was full of sorrow, / Balm of Gilead did you borrow / At the gates of day?"**_

**-Mary A. Pepper Kidder**

****Okay . . . all I can say is, I really need to branch out into other fandoms. As soon as _The Sorcerer's Apprentices_ is done, expect fewer Merlin-related stories. Maybe. *is helpless against the plot bunnies* _sob!_****

****ANYWAY. Please leave a review this one last time;)****

****_That's all, folks!_****


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